*Note: Little Paris Bookshop review originally posted October 2015*
Monsieur Perdu calls himself a literary apothecary. From his floating bookstore in a barge on the Seine, he prescribes novels for the hardships of life. Using his intuitive feel for the exact book a reader needs, Perdu mends broken hearts and souls. The only person he can't seem to heal through literature is himself; he's still haunted by heartbreak after his great love disappeared. She left him with only a letter, which he has never opened. After Perdu is finally tempted to read the letter, he hauls anchor and departs on a mission to the south of France, hoping to make peace with his loss and discover the end of the story. Joined by a bestselling but blocked author and a lovelorn Italian chef, Perdu travels along the country’s rivers, dispensing his wisdom and his books, showing that the literary world can take the human soul on a journey to heal itself.
★ ★★☆☆
Translated from German by Simon Pare, The Little Paris Bookshop was another title on my highly anticipated releases of 2015. I mean, what bookworm isn't going to be curious about a story written around a man who doles out book titles as medicine, calling his bookshop The Literary Apothecary? No brainer, right?! Having now read the book, I personally feel the synopsis is a little misleading, at least in part.
From his boat on the Seine, Jean Perdu runs his floating bookshop where he listens to the life troubles of booklovers and suggests titles that would pertain to their particular situations. Jean's trouble is, he can't seem to heal from his own personal heartache, a woman who suddenly and mysteriously walked away from their relationship 20 years earlier, leaving only a sealed letter. For these 20 years, Jean has never opened the letter, assuming it would just be your garden variety "Dear John" type explanation that would only make the break sting more. Jean befriends a woman in his apartment building, who convinces him to finally find out what his old flame had to say for herself. When he does finally read the letter, Jean is shocked at what it says. So much so that he soon decides to take his boat and go on an impromptu boat trip chasing after old ghosts. Shortly after departure, he even writes in a letter to a friend, explaining his sudden need to up and leave all, "I'm off to tame my ghosts."
Now, the synopsis does mention Jean deciding to take this boat trip, and how he is joined by his friends, writer Max and chef Salvatore -- also hoping to find healing answers on the trip --- Salvatore wanting to heal his own love woes, Max wanting to feel inspired to write again. My issue is, given the title of the book, just how much the story focuses on the boat trip, rather than the books. Now, I can get into a good boat trip story when it's done well... the trouble here is even as a boat trip tale, it was only mildly interesting most of the time.
The reader hangs out while the guys float down the river indulging in guy talk, dancing tango in the clubs, getting kicked out of clubs, getting stoned on the boat deck.... but what about the books?! A title or bookish reference is sprinkled here and there but largely the books are just referenced when they are used to pay for this river trip when all other funds run short. Yet, right on the front jacket flap we find this book described as "a love letter to books, meant for anyone who believes in the power of stories to shape people's lives." There is one book (a fictional title) mentioned in the story that is described as being like life to Jean but I didn't feel like I, as the reader, got a solid idea as to why. He just mentions some passages that he found moving, but you don't get a strong sense of why this book seems to be everything to him.
I also struggled to understand Jean's fixation on his old flame, Manon. I found it to be more of a unhealthy and selfish (on Manon's part) situation. Manon is written as having this bohemian, gypsy-type spirit, speaking in poetics -- "you and I, we're like the stars" kind of stuff, without really saying much of anything. When she does talk of the love between herself and Jean, it's always about what he does for her, and what she must have from him. I just wasn't feeling her, the relationship being too conditional for my liking. But man, Jean would not let that girl go.
So yeah, unfortunately one of my highly anticipated reads turned out to be just so-so for me. Not terrible, just not all that memorable. It started out well, there were some nice bookish bits at the start that had me hopeful, such as this little nugget:
"Books aren't eggs, you know. Simply because a book has aged a bit doesn't mean it's gone bad. What is wrong with old? Age isn't a disease. We all grow old, even books. But are you, is anyone, worth less, or less important, because they've been around for longer?" ~Jean Perdu
But as a whole, it ended up falling a little flat for me. I will say that the most interesting character for me was Samy, a woman the guys fish out of the river one night, who ends up being very important to two of them later on. I did really enjoy the way she was written. But she doesn't make an appearance until near the last bit of the novel.
FTC Disclaimer: BloggingForBooks.com and Crown Publishers, a branch of Penguin Random House, kindly provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. The opinions above are entirely my own.
Marianne is stuck in a loveless, unhappy marriage. After forty-one years, she has reached her limit, and one evening in Paris she decides to take action. Following a dramatic moment on the banks of the Seine, Marianne leaves her life behind and sets out for the coast of Brittany, also known as “the end of the world.” Here she meets a cast of colorful and unforgettable locals who surprise her with their warm welcome, and the natural ease they all seem to have, taking pleasure in life’s small moments. And, as the parts of herself she had long forgotten return to her in this new world, Marianne learns it’s never too late to begin the search for what life should have been all along.
★★★1/2
**NOTE: This novel has also been published under the title The Little Breton Bistro
POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Themes of depression, suicidal thoughts, abusive relationships
Marianne has spent too long in a loveless marriage. At the end of her rope, she takes a walk one night to the banks of the Seine River, where she makes the decision to end her life. Though she goes so far as to throw herself into the river, she is unexpectedly rescued and taken to the hospital to recover from the suicide attempt. Once out of the hospital, she makes the choice to relocate and rebuild her life in a new town, eventually settling on the seaside town of Kerdruc, in the Brittany area of France.
In Kerdruc, Marianne quickly comes to know a new definition of family among the staff of Ar Mor Restaurant, becoming especially close friends with the owner of Ar Mor, Genevieve, as well as Jean-Remy, the head chef nursing a bad case of unrequited love. Jean-Remy's pining away all the time has begun to affect his cooking for the worse. Lucky for him, Marianne's arrival means she can share her tips and tricks (from years of housewifery) for turning around any seemingly ruined meal. Immensely grateful for the help, Genevieve brings Marianne on as Jean-Remy's sous-chef. In return for helping him get his cooking back on track, he offers to help her improve her French. {Marianne, a German military wife who had transferred to France some time ago with her husband's job, had never gotten around to grasping much French, pretty much only learning enough to say "I am German."} Along with the crew at Ar Mor, Marianne also becomes acquainted with the sculptor Pascale and Pascale's longtime friend, the painter Yann.
"Get down from your cross, we need the timber."~ Pascale to Yann one day when he is moaning about his life(one of my favorite lines in the book!)
It is in this seaside community that Marianne really works to restructure her life after years of being stifled in a neglectful marriage, largely devoid of affection, with selfish, philandering husband Lothar. Occasionally the reader is given glimpses into Lothar's tightwad ways: always making Marianne get her shoes re-soled rather than ever allowing her new ones; always making her go through the irregular / clearance bins for her clothes; never getting gifts for anniversaries; taking himself on holiday but not her, etc. Marianne even shares details of her hospital stay after the suicide attempt: her skipping out on meeting Lothar at a restaurant that night; him showing up at the hospital rocking a Rolex and yachting clothes, whining about the money he wasted on a meal at that restaurant and a cab to the hospital to come check on her. When she asks for a hug, he quickly denies her. Imagine being in a hospital bed, feeling emotionally eviscerated over so many things, and you can't even get a hug from your LIFE PARTNER, of all people! Gives you an idea of what a softie this guy is. She also hints at examples of emotional abuse throughout the years of marriage that she often forced herself to shrug off... until she just couldn't anymore. So you can understand the need (or at least temptation) to slough it all off and start anew somewhere far away from your usual.
Shortly afterward, Lothar's lover Sybille had woken her from the wonderful illusion that a marriage, a house at the end of a turning bay and an indoor fountain were all a woman needed. Lothar had been determined to return to their normal daily routine as soon as possible after his affair with Sybille. "I've told you I'm sorry, What more am I supposed to do?" And with that the matter was closed. After a few years, her pain had subsided. Time had brought solace to Marianne, as had Lothar's secrecy about his other affairs, at least until it became too hard for him to keep lying. He started to leave a trail of clues in the hope that Marianne would make a scene and deliver him, but she had refused to do him that favor.
Quiet Marianne is consumed by fear. She fears death, but also sometimes welcomes it. With the realization that she's maybe moved through a life largely un-lived, she fears that she might not know how to change, or that perhaps the opportunity for change (of any kind) has passed altogether. But with the help of her new friends, she hangs in there... and in time, comes to experience her first crush since meeting her husband. This new love she finds herself dipping her toe in... the two of them are just adorable together and I found myself so excited for her. Yes, technically she is still married to Lothar, and normally I'm not down with adultery --- not in novels, not in real life --- but it's hard to blame Ms. Marianne for craving some heart tingles after going so long trying to make it work in a relationship that very clearly flatlined ages ago. Though I gotta say, a funeral might be an odd way to go for a first date.
I loved your grandfather, and after him, no one else. It is a rare form of happiness when a man makes your life so rich that you need no one else after him."Was he a magician?"Any man who loves a woman as she deserves to be loved is a magician.
Just as Marianne is becoming reacquainted with the stronger, more fiery side of herself, a little something of her recent past makes a reappearance (as often happens in these kind of novels). The quaint, light-hearted cover art of The Little French Bistro belies the darker themes of this story. In multiple scenes throughout the novel, Marianne continues to toy with the idea of making another suicide attempt. Though she always finds a way to talk herself away from it (or her friends do), Nina George writes a stark truth -- the underlying struggle that can go on in the mind of someone whose exterior seems to be doing well enough.
She suddenly felt an incredible fear of dying prematurely and not having had her fill when her final day came --- her fill of life, up to the top and over the rim. She'd never felt such a lust for life: the pain of having missed out on so much was threatening to blow her heart asunder. Never had the act she had considered committing struck her as more egregious: she had tried to put herself to death long before her time....Yann put his hand on Marianne's back, and her heart was pumping and beating, as if to say: it's far from over. Every second can mark a new beginning. Open your eyes and see: the world is out there and it wants you.
The writing here gets a little flowery in parts, but I ended up liking this one more than Little Paris Bookshop and it certainly left me curious to try out George's most recent novel, The Book of Dreams.
Henri Skinner is a hardened ex-war reporter on the run from his past. On his way to see his son, Sam, for the first time in years, Henri steps into the road without looking and collides with oncoming traffic. He is rushed to a nearby hospital where he floats, comatose, between dreams, reliving the fairytales of his childhood and the secrets that made him run away in the first place. After the accident, Sam—a thirteen-year old synesthete with an IQ of 144 and an appetite for science fiction—waits by his father’s bedside every day. There he meets Eddie Tomlin, a woman forced to confront her love for Henri after all these years, and twelve-year old Madelyn Zeidler, a coma patient like Henri and the sole survivor of a traffic accident that killed her family. As these four very different individuals fight—for hope, for patience, for life—they are bound together inextricably, facing the ravages of loss and first love side by side. A revelatory, urgently human story that examines what we consider serious and painful alongside light and whimsy, THE BOOK OF DREAMS is a tender meditation on memory, liminality, and empathy, asking with grace and gravitas what we will truly find meaningful in our lives once we are gone.
★★★★☆
Years ago, Henri Skinner, a French war journalist, had a troubled and brief sexual relationship with photojournalist Marie-France, who accompanied him on an assignment in Africa. Their first night together led to Marie-France becoming pregnant. Though she wasn't certain she really wanted anything long term with Henri, she asked that he give up war reporting for good once the baby was born, so that the child would never have to worry about his father. Henri agreed.
Now, after not seeing his son since the child's infancy, Henri is on his way to become reacquainted with thirteen year old Sam, a synesthete. En route, he pauses at Hammersmith Bridge in London, where he witnesses a four year old girl fall from the railing of a passing tour boat. Henri jumps in and ultimately saves the girl (the opening scene of the book), only to be struck by oncoming traffic once he returns to land. Henri is rushed to the hospital where it is soon decided he should be placed in an induced coma.
By Henri's bedside for the rest of the story are Sam and Edwina "Eddie" Tomlin, a woman Henri had a hot & cold relationship with for three years or so. They hadn't seen or spoken to one another in two years, but with this accident Eddie is informed that Henri not only listed her as his emergency contact but also named her in his living will. Strange, when she explains to the reader how this relationship ended with Henri replying to Eddie's confession of love and desire for a forever union with a blunt "I don't want you." But the novel alternates perspectives between Sam, Eddie, and Henri, and when it's Henri's turn he does eventually get into why he said what he said that day and what he actually feels.
Growing up doesn't always make you smarter. It usually makes you more stupid.
Sam's perspective gets into his confused emotions regarding his parents and how he ended up in this place with a comatose father he barely knows, as well as Sam's growing interest in Maddie, a twelve year old coma patient residing a few floors above Henri's room. When he learns she was the sole survivor of a horrific accident, he becomes consumed with learning anything about her that might encourage her to wake up and continue to live. Eddie's story focuses on her complicated feelings of hurt and lingering love for Henri, as well as how she feels about her current boyfriend, and the stresses of running her own publishing house, Realitycrash Publishing, specializing in magical realism fiction.
I know why I publish new future and dystopian novels rather than romances. Because in principle loving means repeatedly coping with despair and uncertainty and change. Love changes as we do. I don't know if I could have loved the way I do now when I was in my mid-twenties. Someone who wants to write truthfully about love would need to write a new novel about the same couple every year in order to tell the story of how their love evolves, how life comes between them, and the color their affection takes on as the days darken.
Much of Henri's point of view, while he's trapped in his coma, is a blend of memories, hallucinations, and alternate reality versions of past experiences, some of his visions being colored by snippets of childhood fairytales and legends his grandfather told him. While in a comatose state, Henri goes fishing with his father in Brittany, even though his father died when Henri was a teenager. In fact, Henri's father reappears a number of times throughout the story to repeatedly warn Henri that it's not safe or healthy to stay in the "in-between" for too long.
You'll find a healthy dose of aquatic references and metaphors as you move through this story, between Eddie's father being a lighthouse inspector, Henri's being a fisherman, and the lot of wave and water current metaphors for life used throughout. Henri's chapters offer readers the chance to share in his mental murkiness while in this induced coma.
I have the impression I am leafing through a book I didn't know I wrote.
As Henri moves through all these various alternate-ending versions of his memories, we get the sense that his subconscious is trying to work out why / how he ended up in this condition and how he might heal, learn, and rebuild.
It wasn't a life...What I wouldn't give not to have hesitated when I ought to have jumped, not to have run away when I ought to have stayed, not to have remained silent when I ought to have spoken out! Part of me is aghast at myself.
Because we also get Eddie and Sam's versions of events, we're given a concurrent glimpse of outside reality seeping into Henri's awareness (them trying to talk to him, mostly), though he himself is not aware that's what that is. He only registers strange, unidentified (at first) voices desperately calling to him.
The tango washes over us. I feel like being silent, as we were the first time we faced each other and were silent all night long and all the next morning. The way we gazed at each other, caressing each other softly with our eyes and our gestures. That first night only our hands touched.
The way he left. And then came back.
Henri is the personification of tango: closeness, distance, passion, tenderness, trust, estrangement. He doesn't stay, but he always comes back. I knew it at the time, and it offers encouragement now.
He's only in a coma for today. Only today.
~ Eddie thinking on her past with Henri
As one might guess from the title, this novel features much more dreamy, poetic scenes than Nina George's earlier novels (at least the ones currently available in English translations). There's also quite a bit of medical terminology referenced. Not surprising, given the topic of traumatic brain injury / coma. But fear not, reader, you shouldn't have too much side-referencing to do, as the text does a decent job of giving contextual explanations and clues for the layman to grasp what all the doctors are going on about. Speaking of doctors, Dr. Saul could be pretty infuriating at times. On one hand, he admits he's a neurosurgeon who doesn't know everything about how the mind works, but he also frequently reprimands Sam for mentioning he can feel his father's spirit hovering nearby, fighting to live. Dr. Saul tells Sam, "kidding yourself won't help the situation." Geez doc, the kid is crushed with fear and you want to rain on the one thing giving him comfort right now?!
But Sam proves himself one tough kid with a giant heart of gold, particularly with Maddie. I adored Sam for his efforts to make Maddie's birthday special, even if she wasn't conscious. He sets up a whole big pajama party shindig, complete with karaoke, a viewing of Dirty Dancing on his iPad (trying to mimic Swayze's moves for Maddie's amusement), and a makeup sesh where he tries to apply eyeshadow to himself, all with humorous guy-centric commentary.
I lean the mirror against her pillow and try my best to apply the crumbly blue stuff to my eyelids. I miss and it stings like hell; I really don't understand why women put themselves through this. You end up like the scary clown in Stephen King's horror story. Also, strawberry-flavored lip gloss really does taste like litmus paper.
Though I've liked George's earlier books, this one felt as if it had the most heart and pain woven into it, which sort of makes sense when you read the author's Postscript. I could so relate to Nina George's words regarding the death of her father --- especially the line "the person I was before {the death} did not survive" --- an experience she says went on to greatly influence the tone and chosen themes of not only Book of Dreams, but also Little Paris Bookshop and Little French Bistro. (I myself lost both my parents years before my 38th birthday...both leaving in sudden, unexpected passings where there was no time to prepare myself for their departure.)
Wolfgang George died far too early, at the age of seventy-two. I was thirty-eight, and the person I was before did not survive....Existential questions about death have colored my last three novels...To produce these books, which address issues of being and no-longer-being, have no happy endings, and are therefore not very "market friendly," I needed book people who were willing to tread this kind of literary path with me. First, an author as manic as I am --- my husband. He's always the first to fan the sparks of my ideas, saying, "Yes, do it. Break through boundaries. Why write otherwise?" Discussions with him open thousands of doors in my mind.
For this reason, she mentions that she considers these three titles linked as a sort of loose trilogy of work, her "cycle of novels about mortality."
It is always said that we may take no earthly treasures with us when we die. No money or possessions, none of our beauty or power. That is correct. Some who have switched worlds have been intensely bewildered at first that they were unable to carry anything tangible with them.
But there's a second truth. We can take anything with us that we could not hoard during our lifetimes because it could only be felt, sometimes for a few brief heartbeats, sometimes only in secret. We can take joy with us, and love. Every beautiful moment from our lives. All the light we have peacefully admired, all the lovely scents and laughter and friendship we have collected. Every kiss, every caress, and every song. The wind on our faces; tango; music; the rustle of autumn grass, stiff with frozen dew; the twinkle of the stars; contentment; courage; and generosity. All those things we may take with us. All that is in between.
"Don't leave empty-hearted," I whisper to them.
While Little Paris Bookshop and Little French Bistro have their merits, just on my enjoyment of Book of Dreams alone, I look forward to checking out more of Nina George's translated books in the future!
Oh, and I would really love to see this one get a big screen adaptation one day -- I think the potential dream world sequences could be amazing!
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